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Pointless.
It was all...pointless.
Ishikawa knelt, his palms face-down on the ground below him after he had tripped and fallen forward moments before.
"Hah...hahh…hahhh..."
Each agonizing breath he took made his lungs burn. He had run as far as his frail legs would carry him.
"You there. Could I borrow a light?"
His head was lowered, eyes shut tight as his fingers curled to grip the ground underneath him. Particles of dirt would no doubt get stuck underneath his fingernails, but that was the least of his worries.
Worries?
That man...that goddamn devil…hadn't a care in the world.
Thud!
Ishikawa's fist slammed down against the ground, the physical pain sent through him feeling nowhere near as horrible as the agony he had been suffering with since that godforsaken day.
His sand-toned hues opened wide, eerily staring at the dirt beneath him. His body shook from breaths his body forced him to take – ironic, considering the very fact his body was killing him with each passing moment anyway.
"Hah...ha…"
Ishikawa's breaths turned into faint laughter – the kind of laughter brought about when one has truly lost his sense of reality.
"Ha...ha…haha!"
Ishikawa slowly brought his hands closer to his body, sitting up so he rested back on his ankles as his dirtied fingers tightly gripped the gray fabric of his suit pants.
"Hahaha...haha!!"
His laughter echoed throughout the wooded area, his head thrown back as he let his frustrations out in the form of manic amusement.
He was dying.
All of this was pointless.
And yet...he still couldn't do it.
Ishikawa's laughter faded as he slowly picked his head back up, turning his eerily empty gaze in the direction where the object he had been carrying slipped from his grasp during the fall.
A blade.
The weapon he had kept on his person time and again with only one goal in mind.
Revenge.
Ever since that night, ever since the moment he saw that letter opener plunge into Tamaki-san’s chest...he had felt a piercing pain in his own.
It was a phantom pain, not nearly as deadly as what struck the woman he loved...but, perhaps that made it worse. It wasn't merciful enough to end his suffering.
Each day got worse. The illness he had been diagnosed with had no cure, and despite optimism from his closest friend, Ishikawa knew his end was near.
So why couldn't he do it?
He had nothing to lose...except however many days he had left in this cruel world.
So why couldn't he finish what she had started?
If he killed that horrible wretch of a human, then at least…
At the very least…
Tamaki-san's death wouldn't be meaningless.
She had risked it all, everything, to try and take down that detestable man.
Yet here he was, unable to even try.
He was weak...
Pathetic...
Unable to take steps to actually make a difference in the world.
That piercing pain cut through him again. An aching reminder of how meaningless his time on Earth had been up until now.
What good had he done?
He couldn’t keep a steady job.
He couldn’t pay his rent.
He constantly freeloaded off of his friend’s unconditional kindness, lying to him time and again...
He was a disgrace.
Ishikawa hadn't been worthy of someone as amazing as Tamaki-san, nor was he worthy of having a friend like Kyousuke-san.
Ishikawa slowly and shakily got to his feet.
Step by careful step, he shuffled closer to the knife he had dropped.
His tan hues gazed down at the blade where it lay on the dirt before his hand reached out and wrapped around the handle. He picked it up, watching the green leaves reflected on the dusty blade ruffle from the light breeze.
He was pitiful.
A worthless waste of a human being.
The world would be better off without a parasite like him.
He tilted the blade, meeting his own exhausted gaze as it reflected back at him. He didn’t even recognize himself anymore. His eyes had sunken in, his skin paler and his lips chapped beyond belief.
Was this the person he wanted to live out the rest of his life as? Was this how he wanted to be remembered?
“I don’t care anymore…”
The words slipped from his lips as his grip tightened on the handle of the blade.
If he couldn’t avenge Tamaki-san, then why was he still here?
What purpose did he have?
His tired eyes narrowed as he stared at their reflection, fixated on his own gaze. When he finally lifted them to observe his surroundings, he was no longer in the woods.
His room was aglow from the diminishing dusk light filtering in through the window.
It was the only source of light illuminating Ishikawa's room, an eerie atmosphere leaving the air feeling heavy. His suit clothes were messily strewn about on the floor as if he had quickly changed out of them.
Ishikawa's eyes glanced back down at the blade he had been staring at – but it wasn't the same cooking knife he had carried for revenge. Instead, it was his razor.
When had he returned to his room?
When had he swapped the knife for this razor?
Did that even matter?
A faint smile found its way to Ishikawa's lips. It was a sad one.
Because he finally understood.
"Otaki-san…"
She had been in a similar boat as him, after all. Given an irreversible death sentence and forced to live out her days with a pain she could never escape.
Had she felt this unbearable aching in her chest when Kyousuke-san had left…?
Had she been struck by this insufferable realization that she couldn't have what she truly wanted...that there was no further reason to keep suffering through it all?
He slowly moved the blade closer to his skin. But...was it really his skin? He had lost quite a bit of weight, the outline of his ribs showing through as he gazed down at his abdomen. He had become a hollowed-out version of the man he had been. It wasn't him...not anymore.
A gasp escaped him as the blade pierced him. He was surprised by the sensation, and yet, he welcomed it. It was different from the other pain he had been feeling. It was relieving.
Warm blood slowly appeared from the cut he had made. Ishikawa found himself drawn to the way the liquid welled up to the surface, not quite spilling over. He felt detached from himself as he observed the spectacle, even with the pain it caused.
His hues shifted to the blood left on the tip of the blade after moving it away from the cut. Watched it as it dripped down, staining his clothes much like his coughing fits had.
But this was different.
This was something he controlled.
He let out a shaky breath as sweat started to bead on his forehead, his tan hues fixated on the blood that remained on the tip of the razor. If he kept this up, his suffering would end. He wouldn't have to endure anything anymore. And so, he pierced his skin once more, drawing the blade across his abdomen in a single line.
He craved a pain that would put an end to this all while knowing deep down that he lacked the resolve needed to actually finish the job.
"Can I come in for a moment?"
A sudden voice made Ishikawa pause, tensing up as his hand gripped the handle on the razor mid-cut.
Kyousuke-san.
"Can you come back later?" Ishikawa replied after moving the blade away, his voice calm despite the situation he was currently in.
"I bought some soy sauce mochi…" His friend replied, which pierced him in a way not even the razor could.
‘Taking advantage of his kindness again…?’
Ishikawa grit his teeth, his eyes narrowed as he added yet another cut to his abdomen – pain to drown out the pain. Harrowed breaths escaped him before his friend spoke up again.
"How is the novel going?"
"Can we do this later?" Ishikawa replied in return, moving the blade away again as sweat dripped down his chin. Kyousuke-san could be so stubborn...why wouldn't he leave?
"I'd like to at least leave you this soy sauce mochi…" The professor replied, making the poet let out a breath.
"Please, just go away!" Ishikawa summoned the strength to say as he gripped the razor, "You're always pretending to help me just to make yourself feel better!"
"When have I ever done that?" Kyousuke questioned in return. "I know you're a genius."
Ishikawa dragged the blade through his skin once more as his friend continued speaking, watching the red liquid ooze once more.
"I feel it from the bottom of my heart."
‘Stop…’
Ishikawa let out a breath before speaking again, "It's fine. I'll come get it later."
‘I just want you to leave, dammit…!’
"What?" His friend replied, only for the sound of the door being slid open and footsteps to follow. "What are you doing...?"
Ishikawa closed his eyes, hearing his friend's shocked gasp.
"Ishikawa-kun!"
The poet opened his hues to look over at his friend, his trembling hand still gripping the razor as its blade remained on his abdomen.
"It's hilarious…" Ishikawa spoke softly, "This will never be enough to kill me…" He moved the blade away from himself, pointing it instead at his friend who was frozen at the sight in front of him. "Kyousuke-san. Why do you bother being so kind to someone so absurd?"
‘Why, why, why…’
Ishikawa clenched his teeth before raising his voice, "Enough is enough!"
The clang of the razor falling to the floor pierced the room as Ishikawa stood up and ran past his friend. His body ached as he ran down the stairs, slipping on his shoes before continuing out of the inn and as far away from his friend as his legs would carry him.
Enough really was enough.
Why couldn’t he see that?
Why couldn’t he see that his ceaseless acts of kindness were all...
Pointless.